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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439985">Maybe There's Something There That Wasn't There Before</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeToTravel/pseuds/TimeToTravel'>TimeToTravel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Universe, Don't Read This, F/M, Fluff and Crack, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I just want the characters to be happy, Jordelia, M/M, Some Humor, Some Plot, Thomastair, Unofficial Sequel, What Have I Done, bracelet is off</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:34:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,305</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeToTravel/pseuds/TimeToTravel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>((Title from Something There by Alan Menken and Howard Ashman))</p><p>This story can be read as a standalone, but I recommend reading What Is And What Should Never Be for context. </p><p>A week has passed since Alastair and Thomas had spoken with each other and Thomas realizes a few things. James has been feeling different ever since the Gracelet was cut off by Cortana and he is struck with a realization. Basically, the Carstairs' loves finally realize that they like the Alastair/Cordelia. </p><p>( Read the second chapter for a bonus story... if you dare ;)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale, Jesse Blackthorn/Lucie Herondale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>James Herondale had no clue what had happened. A week had passed since Grace’s bracelet had been cut off during the rouge demon attack near their home, Cortana swung in a wide arc, cutting through the silver metal in a single slice. He didn’t feel loss in any capacity, feelings so strong and present disappearing as though it were just another magic trick. James could feel a void. Emotions that were meant to lock in place there for longer than he could’ve imagined. 4 years. For 4 years he had feelings for Grace. 4 years of pining and secrets and moping. What had changed? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>James remembered meeting Grace for the first time since the engagement party two days prior, wishing Charles and herself, who were still betrothed, a happy future. He could distinctly remember tugging on his overcoat sleeve, covering what used to contain a silver band given to him by Grace herself. He couldn’t bear the thought of her realizing her mother’s bracelet was split in two. They had talked for a while, conversing as though everything was the same. Except it wasn’t. Nothing had changed through the long summers in Idris, talking and laughing alongside Grace, but something had clicked between the engagement and now. Something was different and James had no idea what it could be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp pain went through his finger, spiraling him out of his thoughts. James looked down to find blood seeping out of his finger, onions thoroughly chopped and set aside. He looked down at the frilled maid’s apron that he insisted on wearing whilst cooking. The servant was still yet to arrive due to the spread of yet another mundane plague, a Bubonic one, he believed. It had apparently spread to Marseille a while back leading to a delay in the carriage ride. At that moment, his friend-</span>
  <em>
    <span>wife </span>
  </em>
  <span>barged into the kitchen, whipping her head around the room. Cordelia’s eyes finally stopped on James, looking for injuries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened? I heard a hiss in the kitchen. Are you alright?” she asked, breathing heavily as though she had run from the room upstairs. In hindsight, that was very likely, but that was besides the point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>James held up his bleeding finger. “I cut my finger. It is quite alright, nothing that should cause concern.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cordelia’s gaze shifted from frantic confusion to relief, tearing a section of her nightgown to stop the bleeding. “Well, that’s good then. I thought you got your arm cut off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sent her a smile as she tied the wound closed. “Well if I had gotten my arm cut off, I would have done much more than hiss.” A smile spread across Cordelia’s face. It was quite a nice smile, he noticed, head ducked to hide it, raising her cheekbones ever so slightly. It was beautiful, and- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was he thinking about her smile? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not like he had noticed anything before, nothing had changed, yet simultaneously, everything had. There was nearly no difference between what was happening now and what they did in public, wearing masks of love near family to keep up with a lie. There was no difference, but then why did everything feel unlike it had before?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*^*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas Lightwood had no idea how Anna did it. How she convinced him to speak with Alastair Carstairs, a man who had spread rumors about his own family, who had done something that had hurt Matthew to the extent that he was at currently. Thomas had noticed the shifts in Matthew when he had told Thomas what Alastair had done. He saw the hurt and pain in his face as though there was a weight there that could never be removed. Alastair had done something that had hurt his friends, that had hurt his </span>
  <em>
    <span>family. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And yet, Anna was able to convince Thomas to speak with him, to give him a chance to apologize. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Talk to him,” Anna leaned back into the plush seat, flipping a coin absentmindedly, violet blue eyes glinting in the soft morning sun. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“After all, there are two sides of a story.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And he had. They had spoken a week previous, Alastair explaining the situation that was at hand before apologizing. Thomas had known most of the information Alastair had told him during that conversation, but it caused him to think through what had transpired. It allowed Thomas to distance himself from the situation and think from an objective standpoint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he thought about it, Alastair was just a kid. Of course that didn’t excuse him for what he did, but he was a child. They were all children. Children were irrational, and emotional. They did stupid things that would follow them for the rest of their lives. Most importantly, Thomas noticed that kids did things they didn’t mean because of other children pressuring them to. Kids like Alastair, who did the things they did to make others stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas couldn’t stop thinking about it. How many people - How many </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> had experienced events similar to this and hadn’t told anyone yet? How had Thomas not noticed the inner turmoil and how many had he passed with similar stories? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas could hardly imagine the pain, the guilt it must have caused him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though a week had passed between that moment and this one, Thomas couldn’t stop thinking about Alastair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alastair donning dark hair for the first time in years. Beautiful dark hair, might he add. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alastair’s smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alastai-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He liked Alastair. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The realization struck him like a freight train, crushing any logic he had left. At least that’s what he’d say afterward. In the moment, Thomas was too busy sprinting to Chiswick Manor to particularly care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*^*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>New emotion stirred up, ones James could never have imagined before. What surprised him the most was there wasn’t an ache like there used to be, as though every bit of him wanted to rip itself apart when Grace wasn’t there. No, this was different. With Cordelia, there was no unimaginable pain. The void that would claw at him had disappeared, leaving only light and joy. It was like everything his father had told him, but better. James couldn’t keep himself from smiling everytime Daisy walked into the room. His breath caught. Cordelia was amazing. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t realized it to its full extent until now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was determined and brave, and if hordes of demons were in the city attacking someone, so help her, she would throw herself in the situation to help the other out. Cordelia had the ability to care so deeply for a person that she would do anything to keep them safe. Not in a reckless fashion either. She analyzed situations so quickly that one might have not even noticed that anything was going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cordelia Herondale, his wife was brilliant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>James had no idea how his feelings had come up. Just a week ago he had been in love with Grace. How those feelings had disappeared, seemingly overnight, James had no clue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cordelia had walked into the seating area of their home, donning a gown of peacock blue. “Are you feeling alright? You seem a bit off lately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, James didn’t think. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cordelia looked astounded before composing herself, a look of determination evident on her face. She took quick strides to the back of the room where James Herondale looked akin to someone who had sworn in front of their mother, dark eyes never leaving his face. She held both sides of his face, eyes brimming with emotion and an underlying fire, and she kissed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needless to say, it was unlike any other kiss he had ever experienced. It was fiery and passionate. Memories of the Hell Ruelle floated into his mind. How could he have forgotten how that had felt? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two broke apart, staring into eachothers eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” James asked, voice so quiet that it was barely a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cordelia’s eyes glinted. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could,” he stated, staring off for a few minutes before facing her once more, “but I don’t think I have anymore answers than you do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, they kissed once more under the soft moonlight streaming in from the windows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>~*^*~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas had no idea what he was doing as he knocked on the door of Chiswick Manor. What was he going to do? Profess his undying love? Thomas didn’t even know if it was love. Sure, he’d never felt like this towards any woman, and maybe it matched the description that his father had given about attraction, and holy- he was attracted to Alastair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least there weren’t any scones involved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door finally opened to reveal Alastair himself, Sona closely behind him. She quickly smiled at Thomas, ushering him inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we’re making scones in the kitchen. Would you like any?” Oh god, why scones! It felt as though every Lightwood love confession had to involve scones in some way. Alas, he put on a kind smile, politely declining Sona’s offer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love to, but I just came from tea at Anna’s. Would it be alright if I spoke with Alastair first?” Thomas gave her a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sona smiled in return stating that, “Of course it’s alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas turned to face Alastair, shock thinly veiled beneath a somewhat neutral expression. Alastair didn’t say a word as he led Thomas to his room, slamming the door shut before turning to face him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You said you wanted to speak with me,” Alastair gestured around the room. “Go forth.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas took a deep breath before going into a quite composed paragraph outlining the events that had occured after their conversation. He told him everything. Thomas, the reserved one, told Alastair Carstairs everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-I just. I thought you should know.” Thomas finally looked up to see an expression of shock rather than one of disgust or anything along those lines. Alastair’s expression hardened before he left his position on the wall to face the unnaturally tall Thomas Lightwood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you as well,” Alastair said, shocking even himself. “And I am willing to try this with you, as long as you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And those words were the most genuine thing Thomas had ever said before. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Lucie And Jesse Short Story... If You Can Find It (MISHAPOCALYPSE)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>HAPPY MISHAPOCALYPSE (I'm sorry readers, but I swear there is a short story that's cute at the end)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha Misha</p><p>Now, enough Misha's, welcome to the short story</p><p>
  <span>Lucie Herondale was climbing into the London Institute window in the middle of the night, dragging a less enthusiastic, previously dead Jesse Blackthorn through it behind her. The scenario had begun to sound like something that Lucie would write about in The Beautiful Cordelia, the irony definitely not lost on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” she whispered, gesturing wildly for Jesse to climb quicker. Lucie and Grace had risen the dead tonight, after all, a Herondale never breaks their promises. The night had been complete chaos from start to finish, Lucie and Grace rushing you bring back Jesse before someone would notice. As was clear, the spell had worked, Jesse back into the world of the living instead of the weird border between life and death. They had done it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, the person who had been brought back hadn’t been too pleased with either of them, never wanting to have dealt with black magic again, but it had to be done. He had given his chance at living to James that night with Belial. Lucie owed him, and she repaid her debt. Grace had told her to take Jesse with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Clave would never think that he was at the London Institute. Please keep him safe.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The genuine pleading in Grace’s eyes, desperately wanting the best for her brother had been heartbreaking, so of course Lucie had to agree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse swung a leg over the ledge, pulling himself out of the night and into the Institute. “I have arrived inside the Institute. What shall I do next, m’lady?” he asks, mischief sparkling in his eyes. Lucie turned pale, hearing the sound of footsteps nearing them. She frantically searched for a place to hide a whole other human before settling on a door a meter behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The closet,” Lucie shoved Jesse toward the door, swinging it open, pressing him into the small broom closet. He didn’t move for a solid second, bewildered look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why-why am I going in the closet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lucie turned to face him, fear evident on her face. “Someone’s coming.” With that, Jesse staggered back, allowing Lucie to slam the door shut before turning around to find Cordelia sprinting towards her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucie!” she said, barreling forward before enveloping Lucie in a tight hug. She then continued to recount her tale of what had transpired in that day and the week previous, ending with a dramatic, “I’m courting James Herondale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To many that may have sounded weird. Courting someone you are married to, but Lucie knew that it began as a sham. She couldn’t hold her excitement, bursting with joy for her soon-to-be-parabatai. This was amazing! Lucie’s ship had become canon (Lucie had no idea where that description came from, but it seemed to fit). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two girls chatted for a while longer before Cordelia had to leave. It had been nearing midnight and with the rise in demon attacks, everyone had been scared half to death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, bye!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Daisy!” Lucie called out, waving enthusiastically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Cordelia had left, Lucie let out a squeal of excitement. She had been waiting for years for them to have an understanding-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her thoughts were cut short by Jesse’s voice. “Is it safe to come out now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Perhaps.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, the closet nob twisted, revealing the figure Jesse Blackthorn. “So, your parabatai is courting your brother? That’s quite adorable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They really are quite adorable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two trailed off as they whispered in the halls under the cover of night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quite an eventful evening, for many shadowhunters that day. One filled with surprises, love, closets, and scones. A day that would go down in history. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for putting up with me!!!!! I'm sorry you had to read this, but Mishapocalypse. Anyway, I wrote this fic at 1 am and it's not the best, but, as I have stated before, I just want the Carstairs to be happy</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading :) And thank you for the positive feedback on What Is And What Should Never Be! I had the idea to write this story at 1 am, so it may not be amazing, but as I have stated before, I just want the Carstairs to be happy. Sorry if Thomas is a bit OOC, it was meant to be a way to express how logic escapes someone when they have realizations such as this. Anyway, thank you!!!! I love all of you guys :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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